


hatred runs counter to sense sometimes, but it's also damn intoxicating

by Fluffifullness



Series: Trope Bingo Round One - Multifandom [6]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Make Them Do It, Non-Consensual Drug Use, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffifullness/pseuds/Fluffifullness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Great,” Izaya sighs. The unexpected actions of his beloved humans are usually an absolute thrill, but they can at times be so very tedious. Well, that may not be the right word – irritating? Frustrating? He doesn’t mind being toyed with or even used, but Shizuo’s probably the only one whose plaything he won’t willingly become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hatred runs counter to sense sometimes, but it's also damn intoxicating

**Author's Note:**

> And so I begin a second single-line bingo! Obviously, this is "fuck or die." Good times.

“Come on, don’t keep us waiting,” one of a group of ruffians laughs, his voice echoing within the confined space of the little warehouse. A very disheveled Heiwajima Shizuo and Orihara Izaya are lying at his feet, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Several other men are holding them both down, and Shizuo is trying his damnedest to avoid swallowing any of the liquid that is being forced into his mouth.

“Not that I care,” Izaya says as nonchalantly as he can, “but you know, this guy will definitely kill you later if you go through with this.”

Shizuo coughs and splutters. Some of the substance inevitably winds up getting swallowed, anyway, and he glares viciously at Izaya, at the half-afraid man holding him, and at the crowd of onlookers. He and Izaya both have already been told what it is that he’s being forced to ingest – something “special” that will “make your body a little more, shall we say, responsive,” in addition to “keeping that unruly strength under control.” The latter purpose has already been achieved, it seems, for the blonde is so far failing to get away from his captors.

“Fuck this,” he snarls.

“Come on, now. You did trespass on our territory in that terribly violent way, right? You owe us a little entertainment in return,” one man smirks, and Shizuo hisses as his uniform is jerked halfway off of his chest.

Izaya smiles in spite of himself. Shizuo is just too funny to watch, his face all contorted in anger at his own helplessness. The beast can’t be used to being in this sort of position – not that the informant is, either, and he’s honestly more than a little concerned by the whole thing. These men may be a bunch of tasteless morons, but they aren’t to be taken lightly; at least four of them are carrying guns, and the rest probably at least have switchblades. Not to mention that stuff that Shizuo is being given. If it continues to work, Izaya will have to find out where, exactly, they got it. Valuable information, and all that.

“Who would you like to have top?” Izaya asks, because he might as well consider every one of his limited options. It’s either sex with Shizuo or death, unless someone decides to show up to help them within the next several minutes. Not likely.

“Very good,” one of the men coos. “Just keep following our orders like that, and you’ll leave here in one piece.”

“We’ll leave that up to you,” another adds, and a wave of derision – sure to increase with everything to come – ripples through the small crowd.

“Great,” Izaya sighs. The unexpected actions of his beloved humans are usually an absolute thrill, but they can at times be so very tedious. Well, that may not be the right word – irritating? Frustrating? He doesn’t mind being toyed with or even used, but Shizuo’s probably the only one whose plaything he won’t willingly become.

With this in mind, he turns to the blonde and grins. “So, Shizu-chan, how about it? You wouldn’t mind bottoming, just this once, would you?”

Shizuo blinks incredulously at the informant. “I’m not touching you one way or another,” he growls decisively after a moment, and his eyes spell murder because he knows as well as everyone else that he will be touching Izaya plenty before the curtain falls on this scene.

“Oh, how considerate,” Izaya teases. He tries not to look too surprised when he’s ‘helped’ out of his jacket and T-shirt. The sound of fabric tearing is incredibly loud in his ears, and cool air hits his chest immediately after.

He’s too distracted by that to notice Shizuo’s predicament until the blonde cries, “What the hell are you doing?!” The informant turns in time to see one of the hooligans just finishing with the zipper of his pants. He – the gangster, complete with colored bandana and numerous piercings – pulls them and his boxers down and grins at the startled blonde. Then, he takes Shizuo’s cock in his hand and begins pumping it – gently, at first, and then much more quickly until Shizuo can’t help but moan. He’s fully hard, pre-come shining at the tip of his erection, and his face is an impressive shade of red – not in anger, now, but in mortification.

He doesn’t, apparently, even have the nerve to demand that the bastard get off of him, for he clamps his lips together and squeezes his eyes shut as he’s roughly dragged a little closer to Izaya. His knees scrape against the pavement, and Izaya sees blood seeping from the edges of his enemy’s torn skin.

“Why not give him a little help, informant?” one of the men suggests, and Izaya frowns. What do they expect him to do with his hands held behind his back?

He doesn’t have to wonder for long, though, because he’s jerked forward suddenly so that his face is just inches from Shizuo’s crotch. The blonde turns his head away and does his best to struggle backward, but to no avail. “Ah,” Izaya realizes, and he sighs – the warm air hits Shizuo just right, and the blonde shivers pleasurably in spite of himself.

“D-don’t you dare,” Shizuo warns as Izaya smirks suddenly.

“Why not, Shizu-chan? I don’t have a choice, anyway.” And he swipes his tongue across the tip of the other’s cock, takes some measure of satisfaction from watching the way the blonde’s muscles contract suddenly at the slight touch.

“Stop,” he hisses, but he’s not struggling very seriously anymore. Izaya laughs softly, repeats the movement once, and then takes the whole tip into his mouth, teasing his rival with teeth and tongue for a good minute or more. Shizuo jerks and shudders at every little provocation, and his face is just priceless as he forces himself to stay almost perfectly silent throughout – tears like dew at the corners of his eyes, every muscle drawn like a bowstring ready to snap at any moment. Under different circumstances, Izaya might have really liked to take a few pictures of that adorable face, but he’s unfortunately being deprived of that option at the moment.

Shizuo is nearing the finish line already – cheeks flushed and breath coming in short little gasps. He spreads his legs a little wider to grant the informant better access – maybe without knowing that he’s doing it, Izaya thinks. The concept of having driven his beloved Shizu-chan that far up the wall, now in an entirely different way, is beyond delightful. Not to mention that weight, the smooth warmth and the difficulty Izaya is having drawing a breath. His mouth totally full, he has to breathe through his nose even as his lungs demand more air and his own pants grow tight about his throbbing cock.

And that is how Orihara Izaya does things. He’s not so easily beaten, even under circumstances like these. Given no other options, he’ll at least wring every last drop of enjoyment out of the act, and he’ll make damn sure that these bastards can tell he likes it. He can’t object to an opportunity to mess with Shizuo, either – of course, he’ll never let the blonde forget it.

He doesn’t get much further before Shizuo comes – a surprising lot, actually, and Izaya tries to pull back to avoid swallowing it. Which is a no go, apparently – the men grin and hold him in place, and he’s forced to take in every drop as Shizuo pants and shudders above him.

A second volley of jeers and catcalls follows as the informant chokes and splutters and finally manages to breathe again as he’s jerked away from Shizuo once more. Shizuo’s cock falls back onto the pavement with a little plop, and Izaya notices that he’s still hard, still red-faced and dark-eyed – like a fucking whore, legs still spread wide and mouth open to draw in starving lungfulls of air. “Works nice, doesn’t it, butler?” That’s directed at Shizuo, of course, and the blonde snarls up at the speaker.

“You’re all fucking dead,” he hisses, but the look in his eyes and the thin line of saliva that traces sweat-stained skin from the corner of his mouth on past his chin detracts from his threat. He’s not scaring anyone like this, stripped naked and still throbbing to be touched more. Izaya feels a bit of superficial pity for his enemy, made such a fool of by a bunch of third-rate gangsters. He’s observant, and he hasn’t missed the clicks of cell phones snapping pictures that will probably make it onto the web before the day is up.

Of course, that will be a problem for Izaya, as well.

“How about giving the butler a chance to play alpha, huh?” one man calls, and his suggestion if followed immediately by a rousing cry of support from the mob at large.

Izaya’s eyes widen briefly in surprise, but he quickly regains his previous composure. He should have anticipated that a bunch like this might be rather quick to change their minds on him. So, he no longer has any choice in the matter – might as well get used to the idea while he has time –

“Get the skinny one out of those jeans, then,” someone calls to the men holding Izaya, whose ensuing struggles – he can’t help it, he doesn’t want Shizuo inside of him, not that guy, anyone but him – get him nowhere. He kicks and squirms and otherwise rebels against the clammy hands that cling so obstinately to his skin, but to no avail.

He’s given the same treatment as Shizuo was, but he, unlike the blonde before him, can’t quite bite back the little moans and sighs that the touches are meant to elicit. They’re not gentle, but that only increases their effectiveness. Even Izaya can appreciate pain under certain circumstances, after all.

Shizuo watches, wide-eyed, and his brow furrows in an expression of something verging on concern. “You’re being too rough,” he murmurs to the men, but all that earns him is a few laughs and further teasing. His comment is uncharacteristic, but not impossible for Izaya to understand; in situations like this, it’s not totally unusual for people – even monstrous people like Shizu-chan – to extend their own apprehensions to include those who are in the same boat.

Well, that’s one typical reaction, anyway, though Izaya still imagines that most people would look for a way – any way – to save themselves and only themselves. Fuck the other person – or, perhaps, fuck anyone else. Whatever the situation calls for, of course.

So it’s odd – a predictable response, but not one that Izaya might have expected from his nemesis. “Worried about me, Shizu-chan?” Izaya breathes, because it’s just too damn funny to see that guy expressing anything akin to concern for him.

But his façade falls away just like that when one of his captors slips a couple of fingers into his entrance and does a quick, rough job of loosening him up. They guy doesn’t actually try to find his prostate but he somehow manages it by chance, and Izaya gasps and shudders from head to toe. He squeezes his eyes shut, not even hearing the growling retort that Shizuo throws back at him, and he knows damn well that he’s not going to last long like this. It’s mortifying, that he can be excited just as quickly as Shizuo, but without the help of any drugs.

“Go too far,” he pants, “and Shizu-chan won’t have anything left to do.”

Point taken. The man – one of the older ones in the group, maybe even a little older than Shizuo and Izaya – steps away from him, wiping his dampened fingers on the front of his shirt as he does so. Izaya’s slammed all the way back so that his head smacks loudly against the concrete. He sees, briefly, little flashes of light that prevent him from fully getting his bearings.

“Alright, then – Heiwajima-san,” someone says. He’s spoken before, too, so his ugly mug stands out just a little more from the rest of them. “I think you know what to do.”

Shizuo blinks down at Izaya, whose legs have been forcibly spread wide to afford the blonde an expansive view. Shizuo and Izaya are both smudged with dust and dirt and need that seeps into every one of their little responses, and Izaya’s staring right back at Shizuo – his eyes burning with unmasked desire and something like a challenge. Or a threat.

He doesn’t look at all unappealing, to say the least. Soft black hair just slightly disheveled, pale cheeks at least as flushed as Shizuo’s, lips parted slightly to reveal that sharp tongue of his.

The blonde shakes his head and whispers, “Or what?” It sounds more like a request than a confrontation.

The older man laughs heartily and flashes a handgun. A little bit of sunlight streams through a crack in the ceiling overhead and finds its way to the tip of the weapon. It travels down the full length of the firearm and glints wickedly at the pair of onlookers. “I use this,” he says simply, and Shizuo quickly bites back a few choice words.

“Izaya,” he hisses, and the informant frowns up at his nemesis. “…Sorry.”

“I’ll consider it payback,” Izaya says simply, and Shizuo nods. Left free to move about on his own, he closes the few inches between himself and the informant, leans over him and shivers.

He licks his way up the center of the raven’s stomach, watches hungrily as the muscles contract and a corner of Izaya’s mouth pulls up in a little smile. “That tickles – ” And Shizuo interrupts to claim those lips, too, not gently but grazing them with his teeth and tasting blood – his or Izaya’s, he doesn’t know.

He braces his hands firmly on the other’s knees and their cocks are almost touching. Izaya can feel Shizuo’s heat all over him, can feel the slick sweat on both their chests as they brush together, as Shizuo leans in to nip at his enemy’s neck. He sinks his teeth in, and Izaya can feel a triumphant smile pressing into his damaged skin when he gasps in surprise.

“You’re really… a monster,” he pants, and Shizuo doesn’t try to deny it.

He backs up, casts a look about them at the mass of disgusting humanity – bellowing and laughing in all its undisguised decadence – and then he guides his cock into Izaya, thrusts once and watches the informant’s voice catching in his throat mid-scream. “You’re fucked in the head,” he finally retorts, “saying you love every member of this damn species.”

And Izaya doesn’t try to deny that, either.

Another thrust, a broken moan. Shizuo pulls out just a little, skin brushing puckered, wet skin, and then slams back. Izaya’s toes and fingers curl in toward himself, clench in the dirt and scrape skin, and he forgets for the moment that he’ll have to bother with cleaning the grit from beneath his nails later.

Shizuo might’ve just needed an excuse like this. A damn good one, one that would allow him to cross that shimmering boundary just once. Just once, and Izaya will find a way to tolerate it because he _wants_ to like it – because both of them are monsters, really, and because this is the only way for them to come this close, to taste blood and sweat and feel every inch of hatred turned to intoxication.


End file.
